


Of First Times and Second Chances

by RunxInxThexRain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Lemon, My OG OTP, One Shot, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut, and really a one shot with chapter 3 being the smutty goodness, foolish twat, romione, romione first time, three chapters but the first are just short set up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27503128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunxInxThexRain/pseuds/RunxInxThexRain
Summary: Her first time was with an international Quidditch star.His first time was with Lavender Brown.But it's their first time that matters, that changes everything.Complete life-changing, mind-blowing, world-erasing sex.Ronald Weasley Hermione Granger lifetime of banter culminating into everything sex.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 59





	1. Of First Times Past

**Author's Note:**

> A post-canon fic of fluff, bantering, and smut

Her first time was with an international Quidditch star.

Krum had been gentle and slow, knowing he was her first and wanting to make it good for her. But it had still been a clumsy affair of knocking limbs, unsteady hands, and a fair amount of giggling. Hermione had gasped at the initial pain, and Krum had guided her past the discomfort to something more pleasurable. It had been nice. Though to be completely honest, after, Hermione still wasn’t entirely sure what all the fuss was about. And there had been that voice in her head, the one she had trained herself for years to ignore, that told her she wished it had been someone else.

-

His first time was with Lavender Brown.

They had had too much butterbeer, and he had been sloppy. He didn’t last very long. And the entire time he had been inside her, his eyes had been closed and another girl’s face had looked up from beneath him. He’d had to bite the pillow to keep from calling her name.

-

But it's their first time that matters, that changes everything.


	2. Of Healing

In the aftermath of the battle, the aftermath of the longest year of their lives, the culmination of good and evil and all they had bled for, there was silence.

An overwhelming silence that was so profound it was deafening.

Hermione took Ron’s hand in hers, seeing the exhausted, hollow feeling in her gut mirrored in Ron’s own grief-stricken face. She led him to a bed, lay down beside him. They held to each other like their lives depended on it, like they might hold the shredded pieces of each other together with their embrace.

And the long road to healing began.

-

Days turned into weeks and slowly, miraculously, celebrating life became a priority at the Burrow where the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione had come to heal. Laughter, rusted from disuse, began to fill the Weasley household once more. They had to celebrate life, owed it to everyone who had made the ultimate sacrifice, and to themselves, who had sacrificed so much as well, who had had to grow up too quickly in the last year. They had fought for this new world, a better world, and it had to be worth it.

The days of healing were spent covered in flour in the Weasley’s kitchen, and laughing at the dinner table. Playing Quidditch over the rolling hills surrounding the Burrow, basking in the remaining rays of the setting sun, sore and dirty from the game. The nights were spent sneaking midnight snacks as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny tried not to wake the household up tiptoeing to and from the cupboard, shushing each other and stifling giggles. Sometimes they would sneak out, reveling in a night sky that they needn’t fear. Star gazing, and talking, not about anything too serious, just trying to make up for lost youth. There was a skinny-dipping incident. And the exploding s’mores incident.

But some nights, Hermione would sneak from the room she shared with Ginny, and Harry would sneak from the room he shared with Ron. Hermione would slide into the scratchy sheets beside Ron in his much-too-small bed. At the beginning, they would just hold each other, kissing away nightmares and whispering together in the dark. It was a couple weeks before the night that Hermione snuck into the room, shutting the door behind her, and then stopped, just leaning against the door, staring at Ron in his bed. Her Ron.


	3. Of Life-Changing, Mind-Blowing, World-Erasing Sex

Ron was sleeping on his stomach, sprawled across the small, lumpy mattress in his boxer shorts, hair mussed, snoring lightly. After a moment, he cracked open an eyelid, sensing her presence.

“What’r you doin’ over there?” he mumbled from where his mouth pressed into his pillow, reaching an arm out to beckon her to the bed.

Hermione took a deep breath, walking the couple steps from the door to the mattress, where she perched next to her boyfriend and took his hand. Boyfriend. It still felt strange to think. She had never really had a boyfriend. Whatever had been between her and Viktor, as exciting and new as it had been, they had never really defined their relationship. Cormac had been…a mistake. And for so long, she had wanted to call the boy beside her her boyfriend that it hardly seemed real now, especially in the midst of the upheaval of the last few weeks.

Ron looked up at her through a single, half-opened eye.

“Mmmmhello there, ‘mione,” he sighed, turning onto his side and reaching a hand up to her face. They sat there like that a moment, Hermione gazing down at Ron, Ron stroking her cheek.

“Hello there,” Hermione whispered into his palm.

With another sigh, Ron opened both eyes, coming more fully awake, and gazed back at Hermione. “How the bloody hell did I get so lucky?” he mused, moving his strokes from her cheek to her hair, tangling his long fingers into her curls.

“Hmmm,” answered Hermione, eyes closing, momentarily getting lost in his soothing touch, “Just persistent, I guess.”

Ron guffawed, earning a warning shush from Hermione. Ron sat up then, and Hermione had a moment to admire his more-man-than-boy body that he had honed through Quidditch. And through battle. Gangly limbs and skinny torso had given way to lean, sculpted muscle beneath his sprinkle of freckles. Then her view was cut off as he brought his face up to meet hers, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. Too quickly, though, Ron broke away, a wary look crossing his face.

“Hermione…Hermione, I’ve been such a git. An utter fool.”

Hermione, still miffed the kissing had been cut short, just furrowed her brow and tried to catch his lips with hers once more. Ron grabbed her chin, gently bringing her attention to his words.

“I’m serious,” Ron continued. “I don’t know why you’ve put up with me, why you’re still here, after…well, after everything.” Ron dropped her chin and looked down at his lap.

Hermione gaped at him, utterly caught off guard by this admission. “Ron, you complete nit,” she sighed. 

Ron’s eyes jumped back up to hers at her words. “Well alright, Hermione, you don’t have to rub it in,” he shot back defensively.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I mean yes, you’re right, you’ve been foolish. And you’ve hurt me, time and time again.”

At that, Ron shut his eyes in a pained expression, rubbing a hand over his face.

“But,” Hermione continued, “You’ve also been…you’ve been everything, Ron. You’ve stood by me, stood up for me, supported me, been an amazing friend, even when, frankly, I was being fairly difficult myself and maybe didn’t deserve it. And you’ve saved me, more times and in more ways than you know.”

Ron looked at her now, awe softening his features, and a glint of something else.

Hermione brought her lips to his ear and breathed, “You are everything to me.”

She felt Ron shiver under her touch at that.

Ron pulled back to look at her, a playful smirk drawing his lips up at the corners. “Well, if you put it like that,” he said with an eyebrow waggle.

“Git,” Hermione shot back, pushing his chest back.

Ron caught her, one hand at her waist and the other plunging back into her curls, and dragged her down with him, laughing into her mouth.

This time, he did not break their kiss. It began playful, laughter still in their bellies and smiles stretching their faces wide. And then his hand in her hair slid down over her spine as Hermione arched into his embrace, and his hand at her waist raised to where it ghosted just below her breasts. Hermione’s breathing hitched, and she deepened the kiss, allowing her tongue to seek entry into Ron’s warmly responding mouth. Moaning at the first swipe of his tongue into her own.

Carefully, Ron drew her closer into his embrace, then they were flipping around as he eased her body beneath his, pressing her hips into the mattress with his own. “Oh,” Hermione whispered a moan into Ron’s lips. Ron’s mouth left hers, as he began trailing kisses across her cheek to her earlobe, nipping wickedly, then along her jawline, down her throat. Lower.

Hermione grasped at Ron’s unruly hair, steering his path to the slip of skin where her breasts swelled just above her nightshirt. Ron huffed a laugh at her insistence. He stopped himself then, peering up into her face from down her body. They both halted a moment, chests heaving unevenly, lips swollen and parted, eyes bright in the darkness of his room.

“Ron…” Hermione started through her gasps, “Do you think…do you think tonight we could…it’s just that I’ve wanted for so long, and I just…” words failed her. Hermione, who had never been at a loss for words, just stared helplessly into Ron’s eyes, hoping he would read the plea written across her face.

“Are you…are you absolutely certain?” Ron asked, breathless.

“Merlin’s beard, Ron,” Hermione managed to exhale in exasperation, “Would you please get on with it, then?”

“Bloody hell, Hermione, I love it when you’re bossy,” Ron got out before earning himself another shove. Laughing, Ron brought his face back up to Hermione’s silencing the retort on her lips with a searing kiss. 

Hermione forgot to be annoyed at Ron, and wrapped her legs around his middle, flipping them once more so that she was straddling atop him. Eyes locked on his, she reached down for the hem of her shirt, drawing it up and over her head. Ron’s gaze dropped. And he stared. Mouth open, pupils fully dilated, Ron took in Hermione bare to her waist. Hermione worried he perhaps had ceased breathing when the staring went on a moment too long, but then he was on her. 

Ron sat up, hands snaking around her waist, mouth continuing the abandoned path from before. Lips glancing across the tops of her breasts, Hermione gasped, clutching at Ron as he lowered his mouth. Breaking contact, he hovered just above her nipples, peaked against the cool night air, seeing his breath pebble the skin around them. Hermione moaned in frustration and arched into him. Ron obliged, finally bringing his mouth to a nipple, his own moan now sending shivers through Hermione. 

Hermione began to ground into Ron’s hips as her hands desperately, blindly reached down to the waistband of his boxers. Ron shot his head up in surprise, only to be further shocked as Hermione pushed him down against the mattress and tugged, baring Ron fully to her.

Hermione leaned forward, catching Ron’s lips in a kiss as she allowed her hand to travel down his heaving chest, past his navel, and below, to grasp him firmly. Ron made a choking noise at the contact that made Hermione blush, wholly at odds with the boldness of her hand as she moved it, up and down, along the length of him. Ron’s hips bucked into her hand, his head falling back against the pillow, hands roving over her upper body.

Hermione brought her lips to Ron’s ear, “Would it be alright if I…”

Ron, unable to form words, just nodded his head erratically in encouragement.

With a smirk, Hermione trailed her lips from his ear down the length of his torso, leaving searing kisses in her wake. When her lips reached where her hand had been stroking, she raised her eyes to Ron’s and faltered, caught off guard by the emotion gleaming back at her in Ron’s face. Not taking her eyes from his, she brought her mouth down upon him, slowly. 

The sound that Ron made could have woken the dead. Hermione shot him a look, and Ron silenced himself, chagrined. But then Hermione continued wringing pleasure from him with that perfect, brilliant, naughty mouth of hers.

For a moment, Ron could not help the thoughts of jealousy that tried to cloud his mind, thinking about who had taught her to do this. But he had come so far, had grown so much, and pushed past those treacherous thoughts, as he gave in fully to Hermione’s ministrations. 

Hermione slowly drew her mouth from him, not allowing him to reach completion yet. Before she could continue, Ron shot up, pinning her beneath him, desperate to return the pleasure. He brought his hands to her pajama bottoms, eyes searching hers for a reply. Hermione nodded, smiling radiantly in expectation. In one swift motion, Ron had her bare before him. He couldn’t help himself and looked hungrily, taking in every inch of her glorious curves and dips, more breathtaking than he could have ever imagined (and he had spent a fair amount of the last several years imagining).

Hermione raised herself up slightly on her elbows, giving Ron an impatient pout that he had only seen her use when waiting for a checked-out library book. Bloody hell, he loved her.

Ron moved, and they crashed into each other, desperate, searching kisses, and roving, tangling limbs, reveling in the feel of each other’s bodies with all boundaries gone.

Hermione wrapped her legs around Ron’s waist once more, now gasping at the feel of him against her as she ground into him. Ron’s eyes rolled back into his head and with a groan, he hoisted Hermione above him and lowered his head to her, looking up for her confirming nod before plunging his tongue into her. It was now Hermione’s turn to wake the dead. And she reached blindly for the pillow beside her to crush it to her face, muffling her cries of ecstasy. Ron laughed, rumbling against her, savoring the taste of her. 

Hermione tossed the pillow aside, not allowing Ron to finish her just yet. Panting, she pressed him down into the mattress, her body flush to his from above.

Catching her breath, she grasped his cheek, drawing his glazed eyes to hers. “I love you, Ron.”

His eyes softened, and he cradled her face between his own palms.

Hermione continued, “I love you, and I’ve wanted to tell you that every day…every day for a very long time. You…you are it for me.” She gulped down air, settling into the places along his body where hers fit perfectly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words,” Ron whispered, barely audible into the air between them. “I love you, Hermione. More than you will ever know.”

They kissed, sweetly, then desperately. And slowly, Hermione lowered herself down onto Ron, and their bodies were joined together. They both let out strangled gasps at the instant feeling of elation, of completeness, of pleasure neither could have imagined. Then they laughed softly at the shared reaction, lips brushing one another in reassurance. And they began to move, rocking together, and neither could have known that such a simple coming together and tandem movement of bodies could be so utterly life altering. 

Ron’s lips and hands were everywhere. And he whispered her name along her skin – her collarbone, her shoulder, her palm, her breast – like it was an incantation for a lifetime of contentment. Like it was the only thing keeping him afloat in a sea of uncertainty. 

Hermione, however, had now fully lost the ability to form words, to remember words. Her world was Ron’s hands, Ron’s lips, Ron’s breaths. His thrusts. Pounding into her, more desperate with every movement, as she writhed above and around him like a blazing flame.

Ron angled, deepening into her, and she combusted. Release thundered through her, and suddenly she recalled a word. A name. And it was Ron’s name that ripped itself from her throat as she threw her head back in surrender.

Ron’s hand shot up, covering her mouth, as he bit into her shoulder to muffle his own cry as release barreled into him.

They collapsed in a heap onto the sheets, tangled and sweating and gasping, unable to do anything but stare into one another’s eyes in complete awe and reverence.

“I,” Ron began, “I didn’t know,” – gasp – “that it could be like that.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, reaching deep into herself to find the ability to form sentences.

“Complete life-changing, mind-blowing, world-erasing sex, you mean?” She got out. 

“Yeah. That.” Their gazes caught on one another, and then they both found themselves smiling, silent laughter shaking their bodies as they came together in an embrace of utter contentment.

“Ron?” Hermione spoke into the dark.

“Mhm?” He answered into her hair.

“You realize it’s because of your crowning foolishness that we didn’t manage to do that much sooner.” Hermione sat up, pushing an accusatory finger in Ron’s face that he slapped away.

Her eyes blazed. “We could have been doing this for yea-”

Ron cut her off with a kiss. After a moment, he pulled away. “Hermione. Love of my pathetic, worthless life. I know. And I am a twat. And I am sorry.”

Hermione looked slightly less annoyed, though something mischievous sparked in her gaze. Ron swallowed, hard.

“I think,” Hermione said, slowly pushing Ron back against the mattress, “That I know just how you can make it up to me.”

“That I can do,” Ron managed to reply before Hermione had captured his lips once more and he found a much better use for his foolish mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
